


Losing Sleep

by superpotterlock93



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in the Bunker, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Not Beta Read, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:17:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5578183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superpotterlock93/pseuds/superpotterlock93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the bunker floods Castiel's bedroom, he has to share with one of the Winchesters. As it turns out, Cas is the worst possible person to share a room with. Maybe with some time Dean will get used to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean loved that the bunker was old. He loved that it was a little dented in places, scuffed in others and broken in the rest. It reminded him of himself and Sam in a way. What he _didn’t_ love was that, much like himself, the damn place was always in need of fixing.

The newest problem was busted plumbing. It had flooded almost the whole East wing of their corridor. So now not only did he have to get up at the ass crack of dawn to check out the water damage and plumbing, but he also had to deal with a slightly damp, sleep rumpled ex-angel left stranded outside a flooded bedroom.

Cas was already not a morning person as it was. This morning found him in an especially dour mood, standing around in wet socks and pajama pants at 3a.m. He usually found half past ten to be an unreasonable time for the sun to be up but 3 a.m. was clearly taking things too damn far. It was plain as day in the red of his eyes.

While Sam found some supplies to temporarily mend the pipe, Dean and Cas mopped up the floors as best as they could. They worked in silence all the while but Dean was keeping a close eye on Cas. It was obvious that the other man was growing more frustrated by the second. He had a distinctly smite-y look on his face even if he didn’t have the grace to follow through. Dean had been on the other end of that look enough times to know it was time to intervene.

“Hey Cas, y’know I think we’ve got things covered here. Why don’t you go change out of those wet clothes and camp out in Sam’s room?”

“Why can’t he sleep in yours?” Sam glanced up, “My bed’s already kinda small for me.”

“Dean’s it is then,” Cas agreed not having the courtesy to wait for Dean to give an invitation or  at least insist that he finish help them.

“Uh, Cas I don’t think—.”

“I need a shower. I don’t want to think about where this water has been,” he wrinkled his nose.

Before Dean could protest again, Cas was already on his way to the spare bathroom. He didn’t know it was possible for someone to mop _smugly_ until he looked over at Sam. “I don’t know what’s got you so pleased with yourself,” Dean grumbled, “You’re getting him tomorrow night.” That didn’t seem to bother Sam one bit. He just shook his bed hair away from his eyes and went back to cleaning up the bathroom.

_** ** **_

_We are two mature adults stuck in the middle of a dumb accident._ Dean smoothened out his sheets and gave his pillows an extra fluff. He ignored the anxious buzz thrumming in his veins at the thought. _It’s just one night. We can handle one night._

It was not, however, just one night. In fact it took an entire week for the repairs to be completed.

The first night was weird. Cas seemed to ignore any sense of common, sleepover decency as he decided that boxers and socks were all he was prepared to sleep in. Apparently he’d only put on his pajama pants earlier because he was leaving his room to see what was going on. Ordinarily he slept in next to nothing. A fact that was only coming to light right now.

Dean gave an undignified little splutter when he turned around to find six feet and one inch of tanned skin covered in nothing but plaid and white wool.

“Oh c’mon, Cas. For God’s sake. Put on some pants…and a shirt.”

“Why?”

“Do you need to make this weirder than it has to be?”

“Don’t be a child, Dean,” Cas rolled his eyes, “There’s nothing I have that you don’t.”

Dean huffed and opened his mouth to say something else, but Cas was already climbing into bed and making himself at home. The ex-angel was too tired to stay awake for long, leaving Dean to just stare at his naked back. It was all lean muscle and smooth skin. Dean frowned and looked away. Staring at Cas like that was doing something funny to his stomach so he figured it was best to sleep facing the other direction.

Night two did not go as planned either. It was Sam’s turn to share with Cas and that made matters infinitely worse. It turned out that Sam was such a long limbed, gangly bastard that he had to sleep diagonally just to fit on his bed okay. To say the least, it was an uncomfortable experience for both Cas and him to share a bed. The result was a snippy, tired Cas whose temper was so short that he was perpetually on the verge of punching someone’s teeth out. By the end of the day and the fourteenth argument, it was unanimously agreed upon that Cas would be sharing with Dean from now on.

By the third night Dean had mostly gotten over Cas’s state of undress, but there was a new problem. Cas snored. And no, not in that funny little way that they did in cartoons. His snores were as rough as his voice and Dean was certain that they could strip the paint off the walls.

Dean could not fathom how he hadn’t noticed the last time they’d shared a bed. Maybe he’d been so exhausted that he’d missed it. Maybe Cas had been sleeping in a different position. Either way, he found himself staring at the ceiling for over an hour while resisting the urge to kick Cas awake. When he really could not take it anymore, he turned on his side and reached out to wake Cas. He reached but didn’t quite make contact. He didn’t have it in him to do it.

There Cas lay, a noisy nuisance with his mouth gaping open and probably about to drool at some point. All in all, he was an unattractive sleeper who he had no right being so endearing in spite of it.

His face was smoothened out by the peacefulness of his slumber. His lashes fanned out over the bags Jimmy Novak had left behind. His face was stubbled with the beginnings of a beard Cas couldn’t be bothered to shave. There was an innocence to his face that disappeared when he was awake. Dean couldn’t see the usual sadness or regret that lingered there. He rarely saw him this relaxed. He didn’t have it in him to wake Cas up. Not when he looked like that.

Ignoring the warm pull and tug in his chest, he turned around with a pillow over his head and forced himself to sleep.

By the fourth night, Dean shoved a brand new pack of nasal strips at Cas. “Read the instructions and use them,” was the order. Cas furrowed his brow at them but took a seat and read the back of the box. That night, Dean was pleased to see Cas pottering about the room with a toothbrush in his mouth and the little white strip stuck to his nose.

When he spotted Dean, he made a B-line toward him. “My apologies if I kept you awake last night,” he frowned, “I didn’t know I snored.” Dean chuckled and gave his shoulder a pat. “It’s okay. Once that thing on your face works tonight, all is forgiven,” he grinned.

On one hand, the strips worked perfectly. On the other hand, that night turned out to be the coldest one yet. Halfway through the night, Dean woke up with a sudden chill. He tried blindly reaching for the blankets, but his fingers found nothing. Groaning and wiping the tiredness from his eyes, he peered at the floor to see if it fell off somehow. Nothing.

Rolling over to the other side, he found what looked like a messily wrapped burrito with sex hair. _Y’know if he would wear some clothes to bed, he wouldn’t be so damn cold._ Dean scowled and tried to untangle some of the blankets from Cas. It barely budged and all he got for his troubles was a sleepy growl. “You’ve gotta be freakin’ kidding me,” he huffed, “C’mon man.” He tugged again.

A single, blue eye opened and stared at him with all the venom an eye could muster. It startled Dean enough that he let go of the blanket and reeled back a little. He wasn’t entirely sure that Cas was even awake. The eye seemed unfocused if not a bit angry. When it closed once more, Dean decided that it would be safer just to hunt down another blanket instead.

So he left the room hugging himself and shivering in the early morning chill. He had to go upstairs to the linen closet but he found two clean blankets that he could use. By the time he got back, Cas was curling closer to his side of the bed seeking left over warmth.

Dean settled himself back in under his new sheets and ignored the way Cas curled his body nearer to his. He most certainly did not pay attention to the cold finger tips splayed out on his back, then his hip. He did not notice the icy pads of Cas’s toes sneaking under Dean’s blankets or the warm breath puffing onto his neck. There was no reason for his heart to beat as fast as it was. None at all.

By the fifth night, Dean was getting worried. This was like the sixth time Cas had gone to pee in the past two hours alone. Surely no one had to pee that much, right? It wasn’t normal.

For the first time, Dean wished that the hunting life hadn’t made him such a light sleeper. Every time Cas got up to use the bathroom, it woke Dean. It was frustrating to say the least.

“Okay what is it with you tonight?” Dean huffed when Cas came back into the room.

“I’m sorry,” Cas didn’t look too pleased about this either, “Urinating all the time is not enjoyable for me you know. I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“What did you do? Drink eight gallons of water?”

“No. Beers. Many beers. Sam and I had a few before bed.”

“Damn it, Sam.”

“Don’t blame him. It was my idea. You should get some sleep, Dean. It’s late.”

He reached over to touch Dean’s forehead, much like he used to when he wanted to heal him. A look of sadness and confusion flickered behind his eyes when nothing happened. “Oh. Right,” was all he said before his touch slid down. Down past Dean’s temple and cheek and jaw. Cas’s hand fell to his side but Dean’s breath came out shallower than before. “I – uh – I can get to sleep on my own,” he forced a smile, “It’s okay.” Cas nodded but the look on his face made something still in Dean’s chest.

Maybe it was because he felt Cas needed it. Maybe Dean was just being selfish. Whatever it was, he didn’t protest when Cas curled nearer to him to sleep that night. He didn’t protest when one warm leg slotted itself between his. He accepted the body heat at his back and the sense of security he felt, even though he knew Cas was as human as he was.

The sixth night was, quite possibly, the worst one of them all. Cas had fallen asleep during the afternoon and woken up in the evening. The likelihood of him getting to sleep was slim as it was, but Sam – asshole that he was – fed him coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. He had bought a variety box of some gourmet brand stuff that had like 20 different flavors of coffee. It had everything from plain black to vanilla to Italian roast to Brazillian to blueberry to freakin’ strawberry mango. Dean eyed the cinnamon roll one with a skeptical gaze and opted out of the taste testing session.

Now it was 12am and he wished he’d stayed. Maybe then he could have talked Cas out of trying every single flavor in the box. Dean thought he could wait out the inevitable crash, but it was taking far longer than expected. At this point he was just hoping Cas didn’t get a heart attack from all of that caffeine.

The man was practically bouncing off the walls, scanning the internet and talking in shitposts.

“Dean if wombats excrete in cube shapes, do you think their anuses are square?”

“If there’s iron in blood and iron repels ghosts, shouldn’t they avoid bleeding hunters?”

“English is so strange, Dean. Did you realize that ‘queue’ is has four silent letters?”

“Does anyone actually know how much a woodchuck could actually chuck? You know, if said woodchuck could chuck wood I mean.”

“Dean, do you think pigeons have feelings? Huh? Dean?”

He was staring up at the ceiling, the lights still on and a glassy eyed ex-angel rattling on and on.  “Dean?” Cas shook his shoulder. Dean’s face hardened as he turned to face Cas. _Ask me again. Ask me again if pigeons have feelings, I dare you._ Cas, it seemed, was smart enough not to. “Perhaps I should take the laptop outside,” he suggested and left the room when he got no response.

By the final day, Dean looked like crap. The only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that the repairs were just about done. Tomorrow he would have his bed all to himself and Cas would be back to his own room. If not, he’d have to clean out one of the old bedrooms upstairs that they had never gotten around to cleaning out. At this point he’d had enough.

His pissy mood had everyone giving him a wide berth and it was lunch time before he realized that it had been hours since he’d last seen Cas. When everyone gathered in the kitchen for his homemade bacon cheeseburgers, Sam brought Cas in with him. Dean, in a much better mood after working off some steam in the kitchen, offered Cas a smile with the burger. He knew they were Cas’s favorite and he expected a smile in return. Cas barely reacted save for a quiet, “Thank you.” The brothers tried to include him in their conversation but he barely contributed a thing.

Dean shrugged it off as the coffee crash or something. But the silence continued throughout the day. Cas spent most of the evening either alone or with Sam. The realization had something dark and ugly twisting in Dean’s stomach. In pure Winchester fashion, he pretended to ignore it.

When the pair were ready to climb into bed once again that night, Cas undressed in silence and avoided eye contact. Again, something in Dean’s gut reared its head at being ignored. It was childish and stupid but he had never liked it when Cas ignored him. In prayer or real life. As Dean opened his mouth to demand an explanation, Cas crawled into bed and turned off the lamp without a word.

He lay on his side of the bed, nearest the edge. _Oh so now he minds my personal space._ Even in the wake of that bitter thought, Dean knew he didn’t actually have a problem with Cas’s night time clinginess. He’d never admit it, but he kind of liked sleeping next to someone like that.

He liked the nearness and the warmth. He didn’t feel self conscious anymore when he felt chilly fingers slide under his shirt to rest his belly. Cas didn’t seem to mind that his belly had gone a bit soft over the years – unlike the younger Winchester’s. Dean didn’t tense up at the touch anymore. He face didn’t heat up at the contact. He’d come to accept that Cas sought warmth wherever he could get it. He ran hotter and colder with fluctuating speed now that he was human. His grace didn’t shield him from the elements. And if the warmth Cas needed was against Dean’s skin, well he could get past that.

On this particular night however, Cas was keeping his distance. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think there was a barbed wire fence in the middle of the bed between them. _So he won’t look at me, he won’t talk to me and now he can’t stand to be near me?_ The thought stirred up a hurting brand of anger inside him that he shoved away. “Fine,” he snapped and hurled himself into bed in spite of Cas’s flinch.

Even after laying there for almost half an hour, Dean couldn’t seem to get to sleep. He couldn’t tell if he simply wasn’t tired or if it was Cas’s constant tossing and turning. It felt easier to blame Cas’s fidgeting so he did just that.

“For the love of—,” Dean huffed when Cas rolled for the two dozenth time, “Would you please get comfortable and go the fuck to sleep?”

The distressed sigh was soft and barely noticeable but Dean caught it. He glanced over to find tired eyes staring back at him. “I can’t. I’m trying. I’m sorry,” Cas murmured and if that didn’t make Dean feel a hundred times worse, he didn’t know what would.

“What is it, man?” his voice gentled, “You’ve been off all day.”

“I’m fine.”

“Parenthesis, you’re lying? Yeah, that’s my motto buddy. Don’t try to bullshit a bullshitter.”

“Dean, honestly. It’s okay. I’ll just…I’ll take the couch in the library. It’s only for one night.”

He was already up and bundling a pillow and blanket in his arms. “Hey. Whoa. No, you don’t gotta do that,” Dean had to crawl across the bed just to reach out and grab him by the arm. “Stay. Talk to me. What’s up?”

“Look, you’re tired. I’m tired. It’s late. Now’s not the time and you should get some sleep. I’ve kept you awake all week as it is.”

“Oh,” Dean deflated, “Is that what this is about? You’re keeping your distance because you feel bad that you’ve been keeping me awake?” Cas gave a half shrug. “What you think I’m mad at you for it?” Dean scoffed.

“Aren’t you?” he asked with all the arm folding petulance that one could manage while holding an armful of bedding.

“Well I’d have liked more sleep this week, I’m not gonna lie to you about that.”

And that was clearly the wrong response because Cas ducked his head a little at the remark. “But it’s cool,” he added,  
“I wouldn’t put you out on the couch because of it. Stay. Please.” The hesitation was all over his face so Dean took the pillow and blanket from his arms and placed them back on the bed where they belonged.

Dean turned on his side and got comfortable while Cas shuffled around behind him. “You sure you don’t want your room back tonight?” Cas asked. Dean rolled his eyes and ignored the question altogether.

At some point when his mind was drifting between sleeping and waking, he felt the familiar presence at his back. When creeping fingers moved to warm themselves on his belly, he felt a smile tug at his lips. He leaned back into the warmth. This was just fine.

“Night, Cas,” he mumbled.

He got nothing but a sleepy grunt in return and a nose burrowing against his hair but that was just fine too.


	2. More Than a Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas has always had family in heaven but he had never craved a sense of belonging like he did with with Sam and Dean. Maybe this once, after the time he spent with Dean, he could ask for more than that.

Although Sam and Dean had spent most of their lives hunting, they had each experienced the apple pie lifestyle at least once. Cas had never gotten that spoonful of normal before. Heaven didn’t leave room for family meals and fights over who left the empty beer bottles lying about. Heaven didn’t do family the way humans did family. And most humans certainly didn’t do family the way the Winchesters did family. If anyone had asked him only half a decade ago, Cas would have never considered that one day he’d have this. He could have never imagined that he’d belong here.

Yet here he stood, slaving over a hot stove and trying his best not to ruin the scrambled eggs because it was his morning to make breakfast. The toast was already slightly burnt and he knew the eggs were going to be salty. The coffee had just finished brewing and the kitchen smelt vaguely of vanilla.

Cas glanced over his shoulder at the boys. Sam was busying himself with the new blender. Whatever he’d put inside had created a liquid that was an obnoxious shade of green. It resembled thick, swamp water. Cas thought that, no matter how badly he screwed up breakfast this morning, it would at least taste better than the sludge Sam was making.

Dean often grumbled that he was a shitty cook but Sam assured him he was getting better by the week. He appreciated Dean’s crass honesty as much as Sam’s encouragement. He knew he was a crappy cook – a very crappy cook quite frankly – but he enjoyed making something for his family. It was small, broken and each member was practically being held together with gum and paper clips. It didn’t matter because they were his. And sometimes, in moments like these, he liked to imagine that he was theirs too.

He dished out breakfast and brought Dean a cup of coffee. The smile he got in thanks was sunny enough that he felt a lump in his throat. Right at his pulse where his grace should have been. This right here was why he enjoyed manning the kitchen.

“Mmm,” Dean moaned around his first sip, “Love it when it’s Cas’s day to do breakfast.”

“I thought you said my cooking was awful.”

“Well, yeah. It is,” Dean eyed the toast, “But it’s edible enough and the coffee always makes up for it.”

“Too much coffee isn’t good for you Dean,” Sam piped up from the other end of the room.

“Yeah but you think that,” he gestured at the blender, “whatever you’re making over there is healthy.”

“It _is_ healthy.”

“That crap looks like the beginning of a super villain origin story.”

“It’s kale shake.”

“It looks disgusting. I’d brave Cas’s eggs over that any day. Oof!”

Cas elbowed him as he walked by. Dean had the decency to at least look apologetic before taking another sip of his coffee. He sighed and leaned back into his seat. By the end of the meal, Dean had had about two cups. There was only a little bit left in the pot.

He looked up at the sudden weight of hand lying on his shoulder. “You’ve had enough for the morning,” was all Cas said. He watched the corners of Dean’s mouth kick up into a smile. Cas knew he’d been planning on grabbing a third cup.

“So what? You telepathic now, Cas?” he teased, “Got some angel mojo hidden away that I don’t know about?”

Cas returned the smile with an ease he was growing into. “I don’t need mojo to know the man I rebuilt. You know that.”

They were simple words said in a matter-of-fact tone and zero fanfare, but Dean fell quiet. He did know. He hadn’t forgotten what Cas had done all those years ago. He just didn’t make a habit of talking about it. The topic wasn’t taboo or anything but it felt too heavy to talk about aloud.

Almost as if Cas could read his thoughts, he gave a sad little smile and removed his hand. “I had better go move my things,” he said, “It’s about time you got your room back to yourself.” Sam watched him leave before shaking his head.

“A friend rebuilds you from soul to skin and you act like it’s something so horrible,” Sam huffed.

“Yeah, because all I need are more reminders of things I owe him for.”

“Maybe try not being such an ass next time you have to share a room.”

“There’s not going to be a next time.”

Dean bristled under the stare Sam fixed him with. He couldn’t quite read it but he could tell that there were expectations there. Expectations for what, he had no idea. Not liking where this might be heading, he figured it was best to get his brother busy.

He got to his feet and stretched yawning, “C’’mon, Samsquatch. Time to clear up.” It was their routine. Every day someone else made breakfast and the other two would clean the kitchen. Cas usually left a disaster in his wake; spilled salt on the counters, food on the stove, stray egg shells that thankfully no longer made it into the cooked meal. It truly was a two man job to clean up after him but a glance around the kitchen and Dean realized that Cas was getting better at that too.

He was learning and improving and getting better at everyday things. It was so human that the realization gave him pause. This meant something. It was small and maybe a tad insignificant, but it meant a lot. Cas was learning human things because he was getting the chance to. It was because he stuck around long enough to. He wasn’t flying off for weeks and months at a time anymore. He was here. He was letting them treat him like family.

When Dean returned to his bedroom, all of Cas’s things were gone – the duffle bag of clothes, the laptop, his pillow, the extra blankets. He knew he should have felt relieved, happy even. Suddenly his room felt too big and too empty. Colder somehow. It reminded him of the first time he entered it years ago. There had been nothing of his to make it feel like home. It had felt every bit like another temporary motel.

“You okay?”

He spun around to find Cas leaning against the door frame. Something inside Dean relaxed a fraction. Barely noticeable, but it was a weight off his shoulders. His first instinct was to lie. Say that yeah, he was fine. He was okay. Instead he shook his head.

“Feels a lot different with you gone, man,” he looked around the room, “Guess I got used to sharing.”

“I know what you mean.”

“…you do?”

“Yes. My room feels,” he paused for a moment, “lonelier, I suppose.”

Dean would have never admitted it first but now that Cas had, it felt okay to agree. It was easier when he knew Cas felt the same.

“I know what you mean,” he echoed Cas’s words from before.

“Would you find it weird if I slept here again? For one more night?”

“Are you serious?”

“I usually am, yes.”

And Dean had to fight back a smile because he knew that response. Once upon a time he’d have read that as Cas being clueless about social interactions or something. Now he knew his dry sarcasm and subtle sass better. Cas was being a lil shit.

“Alright fine. One night,” he agreed. And although his tone suggested that he was only doing this for Cas, they both knew he wanted this for himself too. They also knew he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

So for the rest of the day, neither of them brought it up. Dean passed Sam countless times, but he never mentioned a thing. Sam didn’t need to know about this. Dean wasn’t sure how comfortable he was about what this might mean. It was one thing to share a bed out of necessity. It was something else entirely to share a bed simply because you knew you’d miss someone otherwise.

That night he showered with his stomach in knots. There was no reason for these nerves, but his body seemed to disagree. While Cas showered, Dean dressed and made the bed. He tossed the pillows to one side of the room so he could smooth out the sheets properly. Then he put them back in place. He scratched his head looking from one pillow to the next.

He wasn’t sure which pillow belonged to whom. He, Sam and Cas all had identical looking pillows and sheet sets. With a shrug, he figured it wouldn’t make a difference in the end. When Cas walked in, half naked in boxers and socks, he crawled into bed for the night.

That was when Dean heard a soft, “ _Oh._ ” Cas raised his head and stared at the pillow for a short while, the wheels in his mind turning. He felt that he should tell Dean that their pillows had been swapped by accident. On the other hand he also didn’t want them to switch back. The pillow, soft and recently fluffed, held the headiest scent. It was so very _Dean_. He couldn’t place the markers though. He couldn’t say if it smelt of Dean’s soap or lotion or cologne or detergent. He had no idea what things had come together to create this scent. Eons of life and he couldn’t even do that. Whatever it was made him sink deeper under the blankets and burrow his nose into the pillow case.

This was _good_. If he could get away with it, he would take this pillow back to his room instead of his own. Perhaps Dean wouldn’t notice. Perhaps he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

But Dean noticed. The moment he rest his head, the scent hit him. It was clean yet slightly musky and it rubbed against his senses. He should have said something right that second but he didn’t want to. It was that homey element that had been missing. It wasn’t pictures of Mary or wall mounted with guns or a stack of skin mags. It was this right here. He pointedly avoided thinking about the fact that ‘this’ was really Cas. It was simpler to just bury his nose in the pillow and inhale.

At some point later in the night, Cas’s voice came out soft and tentative.

“Dean? You awake?”

“Yeah. What is it?”

“Nothing—.”

“Whatever it is, it’s not nothing.”

“I never thanked you for Purgatory, did I?”

Dean turned so that he could face him. His brow furrowed. “You think you need to thank me for that? I never got you out,” Dean scowled at the memory. Cas lay on his back, fingers drumming against his chest. He seemed deep in thought.

“You thought I was worth saving, even when I didn’t. That was important, I think.”

“Yeah, well you did the same when I was in hell.”

“You were an order. One I’d carry out again a thousand times, mind you. But I was still ordered to save you.”

“What are you saying, Cas?”

“I’m…I don’t know,” he stared at the ceiling, “But I just wanted you to know that what you did in Purgatory was important.”

“You were practically human there too,” Dean recalled, “You got cold and dirty and grew a damn beard.”

“Yes,” Cas smiled, “It was a peculiar place. You taught me about body heat.”

Dean’s face flushed at that. He remembered those days clearly. He remembered huddling Cas against him on those drafty evenings. At least they assumed it was evenings. There were no sunrises or sunsets in that place, which made sense considering how many nocturnal supernatural creatures wound up there. Either way he did remember.

Cas’s hands always got chilly first. Dean taught him to blow hot air on them and place them in his pockets. Sometimes Dean would hold his hand, unselfconscious because of the distinct lack of people around. There was no one to judge except Benny, who couldn’t have cared less if he tried. Dean would sometimes walk for what felt like days with Cas’s hand in his; warm, secure, close by always. It was a comfort to himself to finally have Cas where he could see him. He’d spent far too long hunting him down to want to let him out of sight again.

And here he was now, safe and sound in his bed. In the bunker. “If you want to thank me for Purgatory, don’t ever let me leave you behind again,” Dean said in his firmest tone. A hand, very familiar at this point, slipped into his. Dean didn’t pull away and Cas’s grip didn’t allow it. “If that’s what you need,” was all he said but it sounded like a promise to Dean’s ears.

“You’re family, Cas. You’re ours. Of course it’s what I need,” he sighed because he needed Cas to understand. He didn’t want him to feel like Kevin had. He didn’t need him to feel like he was only a tool to be used and discarded. However it wasn’t needed. Cas understood well enough.

It was clear in the tightening in his chest. The swooping feeling in his belly. And though Cas just received exactly what he’d wanted since moving into the bunker, he wasn’t all he wanted. “What if that’s not enough?” he asked.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean frowned up at the ex-angel now hovering over him. Cas searched his face; wide green eyes, full lips, a tiny galaxy of freckles. “I need more than that from you,” he murmured, “More than family. More than friends. More than brothers in arms.”

He’d never seen Dean’s eyes dim like this. He had certainly never seen that kind of sadness there. “I don’t got much to give, Cas. If this isn’t enough then I don’t know what more you want from me,” he said.

Cas looked at Dean long and hard. He cupped his face and gave a sigh. “You are one of the most important human beings in all of space and time and you still manage to sell yourself short,” he said. Dean just looked more confused. Cas leaned in and pressed his lips to his forehead. “I love you, you ass,” he murmured into his skin, “You are more than enough. Most days you’re too much. Sometime you are more than I deserve.” And even as Cas felt the tentative fingers brushing across his ribs, he could almost sense Dean’s doubt.

“Cas, I don’t think you—.”

“Dean Winchester I love you. I need you to shut up and let me do that.”

Only when the doubt in his eyes shifted to something that resembled acceptance did Cas press another kiss to his lips. Heart thrumming behind his ribcage, he leaned into the thumb rasping over his cheek and smiled. Dean looked stunned and awed and flushed. Cas thought he was beautiful like that. He wanted to keep that look on his face as long as he could tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 was meant to be the full fic but I decided to add a little something extra.  
> My first prompt for the lovely Jems_of_Grace. I hope you like it :D

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a tumblr post by novak.co.vu  
> You can also follow me on tumblr at dadstiel-n-sammy.tumblr.com. I may be destiel/cockles trash but I'm super nice, I promise.


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